Dear Santa, make sure the Fender finds a good home

By Helen Pitt

Updated22 December 2017 — 7:15pmfirst published at 11:00am

Dear Santa,

I'm writing to tell you about the man who stole my son's guitar a few weeks before Christmas. It would be my natural inclination to rage at him if I could. But in the interests of peace on Earth – which I know is the seasonal schtick – I thought I'd write to you instead.

Michael 'Flea' Balzary from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, who has a guitar named after him.

Photo: Edwina Pickles

On the first Monday in December I was working at home when I heard someone walking up the pebbled path down the side of my apartment block. I stuck my head out the window to see a man – dressed like a tradie in hi-vis jacket – carrying a black bag. And there I was – deep in the spirit of goodwill to all men – assuming he was a workman, a backpacker or an Airbnber, looking for the entrance to my neighbour's apartment.

It wasn't until my son got home from school later that day and went into his downstairs music-making man cave that I realised we had been robbed. The primal scream and swear words that erupted from him made me realise instantly he'd lost his one and only truly beloved possession.

You see Santa, I know Christmas is not about "things" it's about people. Really I do. But many of us retreat into "things" like man caves and music around Christmas time, while others sashay out into a crowd of feasting family and friends. We find comfort there. I'm not complaining about this – I know my son has found more solace in that man cave with his bass guitar and drums than many teens find elsewhere. This daily ritual of practice brings joy, maybe not to the world but certainly to him. And to me when I hear him riffing the theme from Seinfeld or the bass line to a Beatles song. I remember the same joy my 15-year-old self felt with an Alvarez guitar and a Beatles song book.

But this guitar was special. We live next to a guitar shop, and my son had been ogling this Fender bass jazz guitar for months. It's called a Flea, after the Red Hot Chili Peppers band member by the same name (who in real life is Melbourne-born musician Michael "Flea" Balzary​). For some reason my Australian-American son feels an affinity with this Australian-American performer and begged me to buy him this bass. He even chose to put the money towards it rather than go on an overseas trip such was his love for this shell-pink, road-worn instrument. I didn't get it – personally I'd have gone for the cheaper option AND the trip.

But Doug our next door neighbour who runs a music store, who knows a thing or two about teens and musical instruments convinced me otherwise.

"I can feel your son," said Doug, who is a great dad as well as a great salesman. He reminded me my son was like his own son Lewis (who had patiently put my son's first drum kit together many years ago and who is now living in the US working as a session musician).

"He doesn't ask for much, he really wants that guitar."

He was right on both counts. Which is why Doug felt the pain of the daylight robbery of this special instrument almost as much as we did.

"When someone steals a musical instrument they are taking a musician's tool," he said to me.

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The thing is this is not the first time we have been broken into in the suburb where we live. It's the fifth time – not in the same place – over the course of nearly nine years. Then I heard a friend a few blocks away had also been robbed last week – the burglars took ALL the presents she'd just wrapped the night before from under her Christmas tree. Not to mention the host of other things they took from shelves in a clean sweep and packed in bags before walking away (also adorned in hi-vis jackets). This saddens me. I can only ask what kind of city have you become Sydney? Seriously I would have given the man money rather than have him walk into my home and steal from us. Because I can't erase that feeling of violation. He stole my peace like he stole my son's guitar. It's the exact opposite of a tiding of comfort and joy.

I've spent many woman-hours this week on hold to the good folks at my insurance company whose praises I must sing for replacing our stolen item for an excess payment. Given the lengthy answer time it's clear we are not alone as victims of crime this Christmas. So Santa – I know it's a First World problem and nothing money can't fix. But if by chance you find a Fender in your sack of toys (serial number MX16776495) please give it to another child whose life can be transformed by it. The gift of music. That's something not even a robber disguised in a hi-vis jacket can steal.